Page 25 of The Guilty Girl

He grabbed her arm before she could lash out at him. ‘Stop it, babe. You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘Oh, I do. This isn’t your first time and I know it won’t be your last. I’ve had it with you.’

He tightened his grip. ‘You’re carrying my baby, Brontë. We’re in this together and we’ll stay together.’

‘Stop it. You’re hurting me. Richie! I mean it. Let go.’

He watched as she rubbed her arm furiously, making the red imprint of his fingers sing on her flesh. He’d gone too far.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. Believe me, I was not with anyone last night.’

‘This morning then,’ she said, her voice now a childish sneer. ‘Where were you until five?’

‘It wasn’t even five, and I had to pack up some of my gear. You know how long that takes. I have to go back for the cables and some other stuff this morning. Come with me. I can sleep later on. Deal?’

‘I could scream. You infuriate me so much, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Put the kettle on. I’ll get dressed and then we can head over to the McAllisters’.’

‘I’ll see.’ She shrugged and left the room.

Richie exhaled a long, relieved breath. He slid down the wall and cradled his head in his hands.

15

At her desk, going over her notes, Lottie tried to figure out how to proceed with Hannah Byrne. Then Kirby returned with the girl’s athletics coach and deposited him in their old interview room.

Noel Glennon appeared tense and uncomfortable seated on the narrow chair. Lottie thought he was attractive, in his matching navy tracksuit bottoms and partially zipped top over a rugby shirt. His blonde hair was combed back from his forehead and cut neatly around his ears and neck. Early thirties. That was what made her uneasy. And, with Lucy’s parents absent, it was further complicated by the fact that he taught at the school that most of the teens attended.

With increasing wariness, she took her time settling her file of papers, and lined up her pen and notebook like Boyd always did. Kirby started the formalities, and once done, she let silence wash over the room.

Glennon fiddled with the white collar of his green rugby shirt, then put his hands on his lap under the table. He leaned in and smiled, flashing too-white teeth in his sculpted face. ‘I’m here to do all I can to help, Inspector.’

His smile looked forced. His charm was well practised, she thought.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Glennon. Our aim is to interview everyone who was at Lucy’s party,’ she said casually, to give him a sense of composure and to see what he might reveal. ‘It’s difficult trying to trace so many teenagers.’

‘I understand totally. And rest assured, I’ll help if I can.’ He shook his head slowly, a whisper of blonde hair fluttering across his eyes. ‘Awful business. When a detective contacted me, I didn’t hesitate to come in and talk to you.’

‘Appreciate it, Mr Glennon.’

‘Noel, please.’

‘No bother. You were at Lucy McAllister’s party last night?’

‘I was.’

‘Please don’t take offence at this, Noel.’ She knew she had to tread carefully. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, did you not think it was inappropriate for you, as a teacher and athletics coach, to attend a teenage party?’

The mask slipped slightly before he quickly recovered. ‘In hindsight, I agree I should not have been there.’

‘So why were you?’

‘You already know I teach PE at Lucy’s school, but they don’t give me many hours. Being the athletics coach pulls in a little extra income, but I’m not making enough, so I sometimes work as a nightclub bouncer.’ He paused, as if that was enough justification.

Lottie nodded for him to continue.

‘I overheard some of the kids talking about the party and I knew Lucy’s parents were away, so—’